


Chain of Command

by ejdvdsn



Series: Super Spies, Man [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, Infinity War, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, This will not make sense unless you've read the prequels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejdvdsn/pseuds/ejdvdsn
Summary: Half of the life in the universe has been wiped out of existence and what's left of the Avengers and SHIELD are scrambling to deal with the fall-out. But can they get through their own personal losses to figure out what has happened and why?





	1. Open

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic is part of an on-going series. Please make sure you're up to date on the rest of[Super Spies, Man](http://archiveofourown.org/series/595672) before you start on this one.**

“Can you pass me the sugar please babe?” Darcy smiled sweetly across the table and batted her thick eyelashes.

Bucky made no move to pass her the glass bowl and merely raised an eyebrow. “Babe?”

Darcy shrugged. “What? I’m trying it out… no?”

“No.” Bucky chuckled to himself and stretched languidly back in his seat, his boots scraping on the flagstones and the metal chair creaked. He pushed the sleeves of his dark blue sweater up to his elbows, apparently unaffected by the mid-January Polish weather.

Darcy huffed a little and pulled her coat tighter around her. Screw sightlines and exits, she wanted to go inside where the wood-burner sat lonely next to empty tables. “Whatever, can you still pass me the sugar?”

“No problem, doll.” He sat up and passed the bowl to her while she swiped one of the last packets and proceeded to stir it into her coffee. He placed the bowl back on the table and the clink of glass on the metal table attracted the attention of the sole other patron a few tables up from them. Bucky nodded at them cordially and then went back to his newspaper.

She narrowed her eyes at him accusatorily. “See, how come you can get away with it?”

Bucky shrugged and then tossed her a lazy smile. “My natural innate charm.”

“Hah.” Darcy finished stirring her coffee and leant over the table towards him, making sure no-one in the café would hear her. “This whole undercover thing is a lot harder than it looks.”

Bucky leaned forwards, mirroring her pose. “You’re doin’ fine. Everyone’s too wrapped up in the world endin’ to worry about what you’re calling me. This is barely even undercover. We’ve got our papers, just relax.” He squeezed her hand and then leant back in his chair and continued to read the paper.

They’d stayed at the farm for a few days after Christmas but the tension had become untenable. Everyone was itching to act and had no idea where to start. Once Steve and Bobbi had left for SHIELD, everything had turned much sadder. Clint was despondent and Wanda was traumatised. They’d reluctantly left a day later. “What are they speculating about this week?” She gestured with her coffee cup towards the Polish newspaper before taking a large drink. The coffee was shit but she would enjoy it while the supply lasted.

In the week they’d spent in Krakow, it had become a ritual for Bucky to read her the news. Her Polish was sketchy at best but they would hopefully be leaving soon. “Civil-war has broken out in various places across Northern Africa. There’s fewer resources for fewer people, but it’s a turf war.”

“Why am I not surprised? That’s what happens when exactly half of all lifeforms vanish. There’s a vacuum.” She looked around the square that the street café sat on. Most of the businesses around them had closed as their stocks dwindled after the mad panic for supplies. Shutters had been pulled down and windows were boarded up. While full-scale rioting and looting hadn’t broken out here yet, it was only a matter of time.

Bucky continued as he flicked to the next page. “They’re still scramblin’ for recovery teams to send in on the West Coast after the tsunami that hit.” She felt his gaze flick up to her, gauging her response.

She swallowed carefully and kept her face neutral, casually inspecting the face of any passing foot-traffic. “Everyone we know been accounted for?”

“Not yet.” Bucky continued to watch her for a few seconds before clearing his throat and turning another page. “Okay business pages… hmm… yeah according to this we’re all still fucked.”

Darcy snorted. “Again, not surprising. It won’t take long for the complete collapse of all the major economies.” Sometimes she regretted her Poli-Sci degree. Ignorance really was bliss. She could see the chain of events unfolding before them.

“Have you heard from Jane?” Bucky’s question was tentative, it was a touchy subject.

Darcy’s throat constricted again and she took another mouthful of the over-sweetened coffee. “Not since last week. She’s working on it, despite everything.” Darcy could still hear the choked sobs echoing in her ear as Jane told her what had happened on Asgard.

Thankfully, Bucky kept the conversation moving. “Apparently we’re close to a global state of emergency being announced…”

“I still can’t believe they haven’t done that already.”

He scanned through the rest of the article. “The science-types can’t come to an agreement on what’s happening and the President is still denyin’ any climate change effects.”

Darcy shook her head and leaned back in her own chair. The last of the winter sun warmed her face a little before it disappeared behind the buildings, but she kept her scarf tucked under her chin. “Fucking idiot. He’ll be up to his neck in melted ice caps at the top of that tower of his before he’d even consider it a possibility.” While her head was tilted back, she checked the time on the clock tower surreptitiously. Bucky had chastised her several times already that day for checking her watch too frequently.

“Stop lookin’ at that clock.”

She looked over at him and his face was still hidden behind his newspaper. “I can’t believe that half the world’s population vanishes and that asshole made the cut. There been any more theories?”

Bucky sighed and folded the paper up and put it down on the table next to his own empty cup. “Wild speculation based on nothin’.”

Darcy swirled the last of her drink around the bottom of the cup, watching the granules of sugar that hadn’t dissolved in the lukewarm coffee roll around with the gritty black granules. It really was shit coffee. “Same as us then.”

“We’ll get there.” Bucky tilted his head and she could feel his eyes flicker around her face while she studiously stared at her coffee.

“Sure. You eating that?” She pointed at his leftover pastry without looking him in the eye. He picked it up and put it on her plate. “Thanks.” She began to pick at it for something to do as the silence stretched out between them.

Bucky poured the last from the pitcher of water into their empty glasses and asked casually, “You heard anything from Clint?”

“No. He’s still ignoring all of my texts. Wanda is still at the house with him but he won’t let anyone else in. It’s been almost three weeks now.” The guilt at leaving him there ate away at Darcy every day. They’d had to leave to try to do something though. Staying in that house, looking at those family pictures and ignoring the mound of mouldy dishes in the kitchen was driving them all insane. The Christmas tree lights had been unplugged but left in the corner to gather dust while the building blocks still lay scattered on the carpet. It was all so dark and dusty and sad. Clint just drifted from room to room and refused to eat. Wanda hadn’t left her room and wouldn’t let herself be near anyone. It was breaking Darcy’s heart but she held it together.

As she dug her fingernails into her palm and intently stared at the brickwork of the building opposite and the dried-out empty flower baskets that hung limply from the streetlamps to stave off the tears that she refused to let fall, Bucky reached over and loosened the grip of her hand on her mug and took it in his. Despite the modified nano-veil, she felt the cool metal for a moment before it adjusted to her body temperature. “Just give him time. At least he ain’t alone.”

At the soft care in his voice, the tears threatened to spill again and she struggled to force down the lump in her throat. She considered withdrawing her hand until she saw the two armed police officers marching down the block towards them. Instead, she pulled herself up and leant forward on her elbows, placed both hands in Bucky’s and gazed into his eyes. If she concentrated on how clear and how very blue they were against his dark eyelashes, she could ignore how watery her own must look.

As the patrolling officers passed them by, Bucky tenderly tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “You ready to go home yet?”

Darcy let go of his hands and took a drink of water before caustically laughing, “The Island has been washed away thanks to that tsunami, remember?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and tapped a finger on the table gently. “Not what I meant, and you know it. We’ve been here all day. You’re going to bankrupt us on the pastries alone.”

Darcy huffed and had to restrain herself from checking the nearly-empty streets again for a familiar face. “She’ll come.” She licked a finger and used it to pick up any errant crumbs from her plate before she licked them up. “You checked in with Steve?”

Bucky picked up his own plate and dusted the crumbs on to hers for her to pick at. “He’s radio silent for the next few days. He’s at the Playground doing damage control with Coulson. He'll be in touch when he has something.”

After several days stashed on a freighter, several more holed up on a truck and a night in their dingy apartment, Darcy wasn’t ready to go back. She didn’t want to give up and leave with nothing. At the same time, being out in the real world where it was all so obvious that something terrible had happened, was killing her. Some people, like the owner of this café, were trying to get on with things as normal. Others had shut themselves indoors and waited for news that was not forthcoming from their governments. Even those people who were still out and about had a hollow look in their eyes. It should have been the great leveller. They’d all lost people. Instead, they all withdrew.

Darcy sighed and slumped in her chair. “I can’t get used to how quiet everywhere is.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not long to curfew, s’probably why.”

Darcy picked at the seam around the metal table top, her fingernail catching on the cold rivets. “Ten more minutes?” The wind was starting to pick up as the sun set, and she could feel the cold seep into her bones.

“Fine but I don’t want us to attract any unnecessary attention.” Bucky swallowed down the last of his water and watched her over the rim of the glass. After he placed it back down, he leant over the table and gently whispered, “You know that everything is going to be alright don’t you?”

Something inside Darcy snapped at the entire naivety of his reassurance. Without permission, her voice hissed back at him, “The entire world, no scratch that. The entire _universe_ is wholly and totally fucked and we have no idea what happened or why it happened or if we can fix it. Trillions upon trillions of life forms are gone. They could all be dead for all we know. So please, elaborate on how everything is going to be alright?” She sucked in a breath when she finished, having run out of oxygen entirely in her tirade.

Bucky just tilted his head and lifted one corner of his mouth. “ _We_ are going to be alright. Don’t give much of a damn about the rest of the world ‘cept you and me, doll.”

“Well, that’s a lie.” Darcy shook her head a little too brusquely as her shoulders tensed up as she snapped, “What about Steve?”

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed even further in response. “Semantics. Just relax a little will you? We’ll find a way in and we’ll get to the bottom of this. Hell, if there’s anyone on this planet. Scratch that. If there’s anyone in the _universe_ who can get to the bottom of this, it’s my girl.”

Darcy blinked at him a few times. He was leaning casually back in his chair, one arm tossed over the side of it and the other resting calmly on his leg. She scrutinized every part of his face, trying to find the sarcasm, the doubt. Instead she just found his easy smile and the crinkle in the corner of his right eye that only appeared when he was really smiling. She found the corners of her own mouth upturning and she bit the insides of her lips to try and hide it. “You’re full of shit, you know that right?”

“But it made you smile didn’t it?” He tentatively reached a hand out to her across the table and she slid her fingers over his palm. The metal heated instantly and he wrapped it around her cold fingers and squeezed a couple of times to get her to look up at him.

She looked up to see his features and softened but his eyes seemed even brighter than usual despite the fading light. “You’re such a dick.”

His laugh bubbled up from deep in his chest and made Darcy’s own chest loosen a little, despite how brittle it still felt. He smoothed his fingers over each and every knuckle of her hand, systematically from finger to finger. She watched the movements and felt the tension eke away from her. When he reached the end of her hand he squeezed it again. “If we’re going to get back before curfew, we’d better leave now.”

“I know. I just…” She stood before she could talk herself out of it. She picked up her backpack and dropped three 100 Zloty notes on the table to cover their coffee and pastries. Bucky stood also and took her hand in his once she’d slung her bag over her shoulder. “I thought she’d come when we told her what happened to them all.”

Bucky sighed and tugged her along behind him through the tables and out on to the cobbled street. Once they were away from the café he pulled her tight against him and slung his arm around her shoulder. He kissed the parting of her hair and spoke softly into the side of her head. “When the Widow wants to come in, _if_ she wants to come in… she will. You can’t force her hand.”

While the warning sirens sounded to signal that curfew was thirty minutes away, she burrowed the side of her face into the soft knit of Bucky’s sweater, shielding it from the cold and the world around them. “I just really thought she’d come.”


	2. Closed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so hit me up with any mistakes and I'll fix them asap.  
> Apologies for being a day late, I'll hopefully get back to my schedule next week.

Natasha strolled into the fifth floor apartment, closing and dead-bolting the door behind her. Her heels clicked softly on the exposed hardwood floors, as she walked through the open plan living area. Opposite her, the fading evening sunlight shone through the blinds, casting low slivers of light across the sparsely furnished room. She dumped the black duffle bag on the white marble kitchen island and removed her long dark wool jacket. She hung it over the back of a high-backed stool, rearranged the back of her shirt around her hip-holster and contemplated dinner. She shivered slightly at the vestiges of the cold air that clung to her as she poked through a few of the kitchen cupboards but couldn’t decide what she wanted to eat. Instead, she found a packet of teabags and set them on the counter.

She returned her attention to the duffle bag. She zipped it open and first pulled out a laptop and charging cable, placing them next to the bag. After a little more rifling she found the hidden pocket, she had found an envelope with numerous papers and some currency and a hipflask. She pocketed these items and after a thorough check of the man’s clothing and washbag, she completed her search.

She pulled up a stool at the island and piled her hair into a knot on top of her head, securing it with an elastic. She tucked a few errant strands of red hair behind her ears before opening the laptop. After a few seconds, a non-descript start-up screen appeared. She entered a few key strokes and the revolving SHIELD logo materialized. Below that, three fields lay blank, waiting for credentials to be entered. For a second she considered trying her own, but dismissed that idea out of sentimentality and instead pulled out a USB drive and plugged it in.

As the decryption program started to work, she swivelled in her seat and elegantly got to her feet and filled the kettle. She tapped her fingers steadily on the side of a china cup while she waited. She was interrupted by the vibrating of the phone in her pants pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the unknown caller ID. She held the phone firmly in her hand as she strode purposefully across the room, and peered through the blinds, down at the street below. She answered the call and walked back into the kitchen.

Bobbi started speaking the second that the call connected. “Surprised you answered. You’ve been dodging Cap’s calls for the last three weeks.”

The kettle came to the boil and she placed a teabag into her cup. “I’ve been busy. You caught me at a good time.”

“When are you coming in?”

Natasha started to pour the water over the teabag gently and watched the steam rise. “What gave you the impression that I was coming in?”

“Someone attacked us Romanov. I thought you’d have been straight here to report in.” She could hear the full array of emotions in the other woman’s voice. Anger, frustration, despair, hurt, sadness.

“I wasn’t aware that you’d been reinstated, or that I was still an Agent of SHIELD at all for that matter.” She pulled a few drawers open until she found the cutlery and took out a spoon to stir her tea.

“I haven’t been… yet. Coulson is finalising the paperwork. And you know that you never weren’t an Agent. Not really.”

Natasha lifted the teabag up and squeezed it against the edge of her cup with the spoon before disposing of it. “What is it that you desperately need me to do?”

“Come in. It’s all hands on deck around here.” In the background, Natasha heard a door open and close again and then the ambient noise cut to nothing.

Nat blew gently on the surface of her tea before taking a sip. It was a little too weak for her taste but it was warming her up after being out in the freezing streets all afternoon. “To do what exactly?”

”Get them back!” The frustration was rising in Bobbi’s voice. Natasha leant casually against the kitchen counter, shifting her weight to accommodate the Sig Sauer strapped to the small of her back.

“From where?”

“How the fuck would I know Romanov?”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I want you here Nat. Shit, I want you to _want_ to be here…” Bobbi waited a moment for a response, when none was forthcoming she tried a different tact. “What’s wrong with you?”

Natasha took another sip of tea before levelly replying, “I don’t think a consensus has been reached on that yet.”

Bobbi huffed out an irritated sigh. “I forgot how difficult you are.”

“Still as charming as ever, Morse.” Natasha’s attention was attracted by a low ping from the laptop. The decryption had failed. She pulled out a seat back at the counter, neatly crossing her feet at the ankles on the footrest of the stool. “Has Coulson changed the SHIELD encryptions again today?”

“Why do you ask?”

She tapped a few more instructions into the laptop and it returned the failed message again. She tapped her fingers on the plastic casing next to the mousepad. “I was just curious. Give me your credentials.”

Bobbi audibly rolled her eyes. “Hah, no way. Come in and Coulson will give you your own credentials.”

Natasha tried a different program and sighed as the progress bar begun to slowly crawl across the screen. She walked across the room while it did so and rechecked the street below. After a few moments she looked up at the clock tower across the square and allowed the silence between her and Bobbi to go on uncomfortably.

Before long Bobbi tried again hesitantly. “Have you been to see Barton?”

Nat poorly feigned surprise. “He’s not with you?”

Bobbi’s voice turned sharp. “Drop the bullshit, Widow. Why haven’t you been to see him? He was your partner.”

“He was your husband. If Barton wanted to see me, he’d call.” Natasha drank the last of her tea and took the cup over to the sink.

Bobbi’s retort spat back at her through the phone speaker, “Would you answer that call? Where were you over Christmas? You should have been there.”

“I was busy. Speaking of which, I should really go. It was nice catching up with you.” Nat turned on the faucet and rinsed out the cup, making sure to wipe the rim carefully.

Bobbi’s voice turned darker and she sounded the most sombre since they had started speaking. “They attacked us, Romanov. They took our people. They took Barton’s family, his kids. Come in.” Natasha let the silence fall again. “We need to do something. We have to save them. The world needs their heroes right now.”

Natasha smiled and held the acid out of her own voice. “I’ll let you go so that you can call them then.”

“Romanov-“

“See you around, Morse.”

Natasha hung up, locked the screen and tucked the phone back into her pocket. She checked her watch and then walked back over to the windows. She used one finger to pull down one of the slats of the blinds and looked down at the street. After a few seconds, the warning siren sounded to indicate that curfew would be in effect in 30 minutes. The sun had almost set by now, although the buildings had already blocked out most of it. Her eyes roved over the newly formed shadows on the roofs of the buildings around the square.

She looked back at her coat that lay across the back of the stool and then back to the street. She tracked two figures leaving the square. Natasha held her breath and squeezed her eyes closed for a brief moment and then returned to the laptop in the kitchen.

She spent the next hour trying a variety of scripts and programs and eventually a textbox saying ‘ACCEPTED’ popped up. She started clicking through the file directory, opening a select few and scanning the contents. She started downloading the pertinent files and then pulled her phone out again, staunchly ignoring her grumbling empty stomach. She typed in a local number and waited while it rang three times.

Once it connected she spoke in crisp Polish, _“_ _Muszę dostać lot jutro rano.... Otrzymasz_ _zwykle stosowana_ _płatności... Kraków do Nowego Jorku... Zdobądź dla mnie dokumentacji i płaszczyzny, będę zrobić resztę sam...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polish (Google) Translation:  
>  _“I need a flight in the morning… You will receive the usual payment… Krakow to New York… Get me papers and a plane… I’ll deal with the rest.”_


	3. Rope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are my own, please let me know in the comments.

Darcy’s nose itched as the dank smell of earth overwhelmed her. As February approached, the December snow had melted. Where there had once been greenery as far as the eye could see, the farm now stood on a patch of scruffy turf and the wind whipped past them through the gaps in the still-standing trees.

Her hand tensed in Bucky’s as she tried to steady her nerves. He squeezed her fingers gently as she stared up at the house. The Christmas wreath hung lopsided on the door and the proud red ribbon was now dirty and one of the ends hung longer than the other. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and her boot slid a little in the mud.

“The door ain’t gonna bite ya y’know.” Bucky tugged on her hand and she turned to him. He smiled at her, but his right eye didn’t crinkle in the corner.

Darcy huffed out a breath and it curled in the cold air in front of her, condensing into water vapour. “I know. I just need a minute.” She spent a few seconds looking at each of the windows. The morning sun reflected off of most of them and from this angle they couldn’t see any movement inside. She listened carefully and heard nothing but their truck engine creaking as it cooled. For a second she considered the idea that the house was empty. They weren’t going to know for certain by just standing outside the farm, and it had been a task to get through the tightened borders to get here.

Darcy took the steps up on to the porch hesitantly and forgot to avoid the creaking stair. The old wood groaned loudly and the sound carried easily through the silence. Bucky stayed by her side, his fingers wrapped neatly in hers. Despite the difference in size, her fingers fit perfectly in between his and she often found herself marvelling at how easy it felt.

She unfolded their fingers and clenched them into a tight fist before rapping sharply three times on the door, her cold knuckles stung. The movement knocked dead pine needles off of the wreath and they cascaded to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Darcy saw several spiders scuttle into the gaps in the siding. They waited for a minute. After hearing nothing, Darcy was about to knock again, when she heard soft footsteps approaching the door. Every muscle in Bucky’s body tensed and Darcy couldn’t help but follow suit.

After the security system had been powered down from inside, the door opened to reveal Wanda. She was wearing an enormous black sweatshirt that reached her knees. Her unwashed hair was piled upon her head in a messy bun that had slid down to one side, dark tendrils spilled out untidily. Her face was bare, only a few flecks of mascara clinging to her bottom lash line, below that the skin clung to her eye sockets.

Wanda stepped to the side and opened the door more fully, silently inviting them inside. After Darcy tried to give her a conciliatory look, Wanda’s eyes fixed on the floor in front of her boots as they made their way indoors. Darcy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the four winter coats that hung in the entry way. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to breathe evenly, ignoring the way that the stale smell of the house caught at the back of her throat. She turned to look up at Bucky, who simply nodded and took her hand.

Wanda moved slowly past them and down the hallway, she gestured towards the living room and quietly spoke, “I am sorry about the mess… um…” Her nose wrinkled as she looked through the doors and into the room.

Bucky took the initiative and walked them both into the living room. Darcy kept her eyes to the floor, and tried not to look at the framed photographs that covered the hall walls. Her eyes skated over the floor and to the corner where the Christmas tree still stood. Its needles had all mostly dropped and had created a thick carpet on the floor. In a pile near the wall, a shattered beer bottle had been swept into a neat pile and then left. Less than a foot away, two colored blocks lay almost out of sight under an armchair.

Darcy spoke up before the sadness could fully grip her. “Where’s Barton?”

Wanda shrugged and pointed towards the kitchen. Bucky, again took the lead and they tread carefully over the pine needles and around the larger dining table that had been brought out a month ago for Christmas dinner. When they reached the kitchen, Bucky stepped to the side and Darcy saw Clint for the first time. He had his back to them and was staring out of the window to the backyard. He wore black sweatpants, so low on his hips that they pooled over his bare feet. What appeared to be a well-worn Army jacket was worn unzipped and with the collar flipped up.

Bucky called out, “Hey Barton-“

At the sound of his voice, Clint flinched and turned his head sharply to look at them over his shoulder. A scruffy beard had grown along his jawline, stray blond hairs catching in the light coming from the window. His eyes had blown wide with surprise, which only served to accentuate how far they had sunken into his head. They caught her own, and she found herself taken aback with how hollow they were. The usual blue-grey were now dark and colorless. He blinked slowly and turned back to face the window.

Now, more sure than ever that she was out of her depth, Darcy summoned all of her courage and pulled a little from Bucky and stepped forwards and stood alongside Clint. She looked out into the backyard and took in the unkempt garden. The grass was patchy and muddy puddles covered most of it. The terracotta pots that had held sleeping summer flowers, now sat purposeless. One had cracked with the frost and dirt spilled out on to the flagstones.

She turned her attention on to Clint. His jacket was open and revealed a bare chest. His ridiculous muscle definition still showed prominently, but the skin around his ribs was a little too tight and grey. Darcy leant her weight against the counter and it shifted one of the many pots into another and the clatter echoed obnoxiously off the tiled walls.

She cringed inwardly before clearing her throat. “So, Birdbrain…” She watched carefully as Clint’s eye closest to her twitched when she spoke. “… you look like hell, dude.” She forced an uncomfortable laugh.

Clint just carried on staring into the backyard. Darcy chewed on her bottom lip while she considered another course of action. She startled slightly when a cold slender hand rested on her shoulder. Wanda gestured for her to follow her back into the living room.

Once they were ostensibly out of ear shot, Wanda tucked her hands into the sleeves of her sweater and looked thoughtful for a few breaths. “He has been like that for the last few weeks. Ever since… Ever since. He will not eat or speak very much. I have… I tried to talk with him a few nights ago…” Her eyes zeroed in on the broken glass by the tree and Darcy’s heart clenched. Sensing the change in her, Wanda’s attention snapped back to her. “He did not aim for me. I was quite safe… He startled me. He told me not to clean it and has not spoken to me since.”

Darcy reached a hand out and slowly placed it on the young girl’s shoulder. “Thanks Wanda.” She squeezed her fingers a little in an attempt to be comforting without pushing too hard. The girl was barely held together. “How are _you_?”

Wanda scrunched her nose and clenched her eyes shut for a moment before looking up at Darcy with really open eyes for the first time. Darcy almost gasped at the change, she could see the pain and despair etched across the girl’s face. The skin around her eyes was thin from being rubbed continuously and her bottom lip was cracked from where her teeth had been sunk into it. “The pain comes in waves. It will sometimes go for many hours but then it hits me and I feel as though my skull will shake apart. It is hard to explain…”

Darcy found herself, yet again, swimming farther into deeper water. “I don’t suppose Birdbrain’s super-strength painkillers have helped any?” Wanda shook her head and winced a little at the motion. “Okay, that’s it. I need to hug you, can I hug you please?”

A laugh was startled out of Wanda at the vehemence of Darcy’s request. “That would be nice.”

With no further warning, Darcy dragged the girl into a bear hug. Despite the fact that Wanda was a good few inches taller than her, Darcy tucked her thin frame against her and ignored the smell of unwashed hair as she held Wanda’s head against her shoulder. Darcy felt a deep need to tell Wanda that everything was going to be alright, but the girl was suffering some kind of aftershock, no doubt due to her powers and she had no idea where to start. She rubbed her hand up and down Wanda’s back and waited for the tight muscles under her touch to relax. Once Wanda had decided she’d hit her touch-threshold, she withdrew and gave Darcy a warm, albeit weak, smile. Darcy would take what she could get. “So what do _you_ want to do Wanda? Is there anywhere you wanna go?”

Wanda shrugged and pulled her hands back inside her sleeves before scrunching up her nose. “I do not know. I only want the pain to stop…” She looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. “… for everyone.”

Darcy looked towards the kitchen herself and took yet another deep breath. She patted Wanda’s shoulder lightly as she re-entered the kitchen. Bucky was attempting to keep-up a one sided conversation with Clint, who was still staring blankly outside. Bucky threw her a grateful look when she tagged in and came to Clint’s side. “Okay dude, what can I do?”

She sighed again and reached to place her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to pull his attention towards her. A few inches before her hand connected with his shoulder, Clint’s own hand snapped out and gripped her wrist, rendering her arm immobile. Startled, Darcy looked up to find his empty eyes looking back at her, emotionless.

Darcy forced herself to relax and ignore the tightly coiled tension emanating from Bucky behind her. She resisted every urge to fight the grip that made her pulse throb against his fingers and her own fingers tingle at the loss of circulation. She loosened her facial features and spoke as calmly as she could and held eye contact. “Clint, tell me what to do.”

They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long period of time, neither of them blinking. When Clint made no sign of moving, Darcy broke eye contact first and looked down at the counter. All of the pots and roasting trays from Christmas dinner filled the sink and piled up next to it. The plates and glasses crowded the worktop, with mould spreading rampant over them. Several glasses lay half empty with white and blue mould growing on the surface.

She looked back up at her friend who still held her wrist firmly aloft. “How about I start on these dishes huh?” She spoke tentatively while she searched his eyes for any changes. “Bet you never thought you’d hear me offer that? One time, limited offer…” She tailed off as her hope at engendering a response faded. She cleared her throat and tried to believe in the smile that she was wearing. “Let me get a basin of hot water and then why don’t you go upstairs and shower? You stink Hawkass.”

Any humour that she had attempted fell flat in the still silent kitchen but his grip loosened slightly as he kept his intense gaze on her. The muscles in her cheeks began to ache as she kept the smile in place and she was rewarded when a few moments later, he dropped her wrist altogether. “Good start. Kinda need both hands to get this bio-hazard dealt with.” She discretely rubbed her wrist and felt, more than saw, Bucky relax a little. Clint then looked around the kitchen, blinking several times. “Go shower, and then we’ll talk okay?”

Clint obediently but silently left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Bucky eyed Darcy and she nodded for him to follow. Bucky bridged the gap between them and dropped a light kiss on her lips. He breathed, “Good going, doll. I’ll stay at the bottom of the stairs and keep an ear out.”

Darcy kissed him back a little harder and felt some of the tension leave her. She gave him another quick peck and raised an eyebrow at him. “You just don’t want to help with the dishes.”

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.” He grinned lazily at her before turning on his heel and leaving the room, on Barton’s trail.

Darcy caught herself staring after him with a goofy smile on her face when Wanda joined her by the sink. She guiltily looked at the fractured, lonely woman. “Sorry for the PDA.”

Wanda shrugged. “You are lucky to be with each other. Do not be sorry.” She began to pull the crusted pots out of the sink and crinkled her nose at the waft of spoiled food that rose up with the movement. “I did not mean for things to get so bad.”

“It’s not your fault, Wanda. You’re doing the best that you can. How about we get things cleaned up and you can jump in the shower after Barton. No offence, but you’re not exactly fresh yourself.” She gently hip checked the girl and made a mental note to make her a decent meal when Wanda’s sharp hip bone connected with hers.

Wanda flushed self-consciously but kept rearranging the dirty dishes so that they could fill the sink. Darcy started moving cups around while she looked for the dish soap and had to control the retching when her finger slid into an almost-full cup of coffee that was now furry and squelched thickly.

 

* * *

 

 

An hour and a bottle of dish soap later, and Wanda was upstairs having her own shower. Clint had cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. He hadn’t shaved and was back to staring out of the kitchen window, but she was still counting the win. Bucky held his position at the foot of the stairs, listening out for Wanda.

Darcy joined Clint at the now clear counter. She absently swiped at a small cluster of soap bubbles and wiped them on her jeans. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Clint finally spoke, his voice rough and unsteady. “Okay, honey.” He spoke with clear restraint and no intonation.

Darcy threw him a puzzled look and waited for him to elaborate.

His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. “That’s the last thing I said to her. Didn’t even look at her while I said it.”

Affection and sympathy rushed over Darcy. “Oh Clint. You can’t do that to yourself.”

Clint’s eyes focused on some insignificant spot in the backyard. “I can’t even remember the last things I said to my kids. I keep trying to remember, but I can’t. Wouldn’t have been anything important. Can’t even remember the last time I told them that I loved ‘em.” The corners of his eyes tightened and he clenched his jaw.

Darcy inched a little closer to him, her hip almost touching his thigh. “You don’t need to tough it out with me, y’know.”

“I start letting this in, Darce. I ain’t making it out again.”

Darcy sniffed haughtily and closed the gap between them. “Nonsense. You’re the toughest guy I know. You can survive anything.”

Clint’s jaw worked over again. “Not this.”

Darcy’s restraint and apprehension after the earlier incident melted. “Can I give you a hug?”

Clint was barely able to complete his imperceptible nod when Darcy spun him and crashed her arms around his chest. He let her hold him tight and lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. She jerked her grip on him until he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and was grateful that she’d waited until after he’d showered. She turned her head so she could speak softly into his chest. “It’ll be okay.” She rubbed her hands up and down his back. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

Clint rested his cheek on the top of her head and whispered shakily, “I don’t even know what happened to them.”

Darcy replied purposefully, “We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise. No matter what it takes. There’s something going on out there. Jane’s working on it from Asgard and none of us will stop until we work out where they’ve gone.”

Darcy wobbled on her feet as Clint jerked her back, gripping the top of her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He ducked his head to look her in the eye, his softening muscles taut again. “What do you mean?”

“What?” Darcy’s head was spinning.

Clint’s breathing had sped up and his eyes flickered between hers frantically. “You said ‘where they’ve gone’? Have they just been taken somewhere?”

“Well, we don’t know yet. That’s what we need to figure out. Heimdall can’t see anyone or anything that’s been disappeared. But we can’t rule out the possibility that they’ve just been transported somewhere-”

“So they could be out there somewhere, alive?” Clint’s grip on her shoulders tightened uncomfortably and rooted her to the spot.

“We don’t know Clint, but we’re going to figure it out. We will figure it out.” Darcy’s heartrate ticked up as she felt the conversation slide away from her.

Clint looked away from her at last and into the middle distance before mumbling to himself. “This is not something we were trained for… Monsters and magic.”

Darcy wasn’t sure what he was talking about but she scrambled to regain control of the situation. “Since when has that ever stopped us before?”

“This is different Darce. This isn’t Hydra or Loki… fuck.” All color drained from Clint’s face. “What if this is Loki?”

Darcy tried to reach out to Clint, but his arms held her pinned. “Calm down, Jane is in Asgard. There’s no sign of Loki. This isn’t him.”

Clint’s eyes widened and he whispered agitatedly. “How do you know? He’s been in my head. He knows about them.”

“It’s not just them though… it’s everyone… everywhere.” She tried again to shake Clint’s grip loose and he acquiesced. She refrained from reaching physically out to him, much as it pained her. He was too volatile. “This is big… but we can do this. If we all pitch in together, we can figure this out.”

“And get them back?” He visibly perked up at this thought, and so Darcy ran with it.

“Sure. If they’re out there, we’ll get them back.” She tried a reassuring smile.

Clint suddenly got a wild look in his eyes. “So where do we start?”

“Um. I’m not sure yet. Jane’s looking into things at her end. We’re waiting to hear back from Steve. He’s at SHIELD.” Darcy explained, “Right now, we just need to look after each other and wait to find out our next move.”

The wild eyes turned feral, “Fuck that. My family is out there. I need to find them. I ain’t sitting around waiting for someone else to tell me what to do. I need to get to them.”

Darcy started to panic and backpedal. “Clint, we don’t know anything for definite right now.”

“The hell we don’t. Someone has my family, that’s all I need to know.” Clint’s entire body stilled. This time though, she could practically see the energy fizzing through his veins, ready to leap into action.

Darcy spoke softly, like she was coaxing a frightened stray dog. “They _might_ be.”

Clint took a step towards her, crowding her space. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means we don’t know anything Clint. Calm down.” She stepped back, putting a more comfortable gap between them, but instantly regretted the show of weakness.

“ _Calm down?!_ You just finished saying we don’t know for sure, now they _might_ be dead?”

“Clint, I’m sorry I-“

“You what? You’re sorry for _what_ Darcy?”

“I-I don’t know. Just calm down.”

“No I won’t fucking calm down.” He abruptly turned and disappeared out of the side door and out towards the yard.

Darcy chased out after him, the cold stealing her breath as her boots pounded on the back porch before she leapt down the stairs. When she caught up with him, she called out, “Clint-“

“Oh my God, WHAT?” He turned on the spot and barked back at her. “ _Clint_ what?”

The fight that had propelled her out of the house swiftly left her as she realized she had swum out so far that she couldn’t see land anymore. “I don’t know.”

Clint narrowed his eyes and spat at her, “Don’t know much do you?”

His words stung, “CLINT!”

The heavy footfalls of Bucky’s boots, pounded up behind her, obviously alerted by the raised voices. Darcy chanced a look back and saw him standing with his hand hovering over his holster a few feet away. Wanda stood in the back doorway with her wet hair hanging around her shoulders.

Darcy turned back to Clint and opened her mouth to speak, when he raised both hands out at her. At her instinctual flinch, something in him snapped. “Oh you know what? Just get out of here!” He pointed aggressively at both herself and Bucky and then Wanda.  “You and him both. And take her with you. I’ll find them myself.”

In a last ditch effort, Darcy tried to reach out and grab his forearm to calm him. He tugged her forwards and swept her legs out from underneath her. The same instant that she hit the ground, Clint loomed over her, “Don’t push me, kid.”

Bucky rushed forwards as Clint stormed away towards the house. Darcy shooed Bucky’s helpful hands and pulled herself to her feet. Anger and hurt coursed through her as she watched Wanda side-step Clint as he marched passed. She dusted the dirt off of her hands and made her own way over to Wanda, closely followed by a stoically furious Bucky.

Wanda’s lip trembled as she glanced at Darcy’s left hip, right where a vicious bruise was no doubt already forming. “He is in a lot of pain. He did not mean to hurt you.”

Darcy blew out a slow breath, steadying her heartbeat and trying to stem the flow of adrenaline that was not-so-subtly suggesting that she go track down Clint and give him hell. “I know, Wanda.” She erased all trace of distress from her face before looking up at Bucky. “I think we’re going to need to try another angle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the angst, oh so much angst.
> 
> I think it's safe to assume, at this point, that Wednesday will now be the upload day for new chapters (although it's after 1.30am here, so technically it's Thursday. But sssshhh). So we'll see how that goes.
> 
> As always, please leave all questions, comments, queries and/or theories in a comment and I'll reply ASAP.  
> And please remember to feed the author, it makes her write faster ;)


	4. Ladder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Early update.  
> Happy weekend, all :)
> 
> Unbeta'd, so if you find any mistakes, let me know.

Darcy watched Wanda sat and wrung her hands in her lap, her face mostly obscured by her hair as she stared a hole into the concrete floor. Bucky stood just behind the chair at parade rest, his eyes steadfastly on the older man behind the desk. Darcy focused on keeping her posture relaxed and meandered past the shelves that lined the walls, trailing a finger along the metal edges.

“I thought we talked about this Miss Lewis?” Coulson leaned back in his chair, but his jaw was held tight.

Darcy picked up a book and flicked through it calmly, but didn’t pay any attention to the contents. “I thought you’d tightened security.” She replaced the book and picked up another and gave it the same treatment.

“Breaking and entering into a government agency is a federal crime, one that carries a very long sentence.”

She forced her shoulders to stay loose as she pretended to find this particular page very interesting. “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference, Director.”

“You can call me Phil, you know.” She granted him a glance accompanied by a sceptical eyebrow raise before returning to her book. “Was there a point to this visit? In case you hadn’t noticed, SHIELD kind of has a lot on its plate just now, and we’re understaffed more than ever.”

When they’d been frog-marched through the halls of the Playground Headquarters from the cafeteria to Coulson’s office, they had only seen a handful of agents passing them. But every room they’d passed had been a hubbub of activity and the place was fizzing with futile energy.

She finally closed the book and returned it to its shelf and turned to face Coulson. “Who did you lose?”

“Too many.” He finally broke eye contact and glanced down at his desk for a moment before looking back up at her, his jaw clenched again.

Darcy popped her hip and rested it on the shelves while folding her arms. “Who did _you_ lose?”

Coulson’s expression slid into cool neutrality. “Agents May, Mackenzie, Simmons and Gutierrez.”

“Fuck.” It still shocked her to the core when she was confronted with the fact that they weren’t the only ones to have lost people. Everyone had lost someone.

“Indeed.” Coulson sat forward in his chair and leant his arms on the desk, apparently ready to discuss business. “So what can I do for you Miss Lewis?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but she came over and sat in the chair next to Wanda. It was stiff backed and uncomfortable. It reminded her of the dining chairs at her grandmother’s. Designed to ensure that you kept good posture and remembered your manners. She sat at an angle, tossing an arm over the high back, the hard wooden edge biting into her forearm. “Well, _Phil_ , we’re here for a little quid quo pro.”

Coulson’s eyes flashed ever so briefly with interest. “Go on.”

“We’ll work with SHIELD to investigate and handle all of this.” Darcy lazily looped her finger in the air before dropping it to dangle at the back of the chair, out of sight where she could flex it and try to regain the blood flow.

“And in exchange?”

She discretely took a breath and maintained eye contact with the Director. “We need your help with Barton. He’s not dealing well and I don’t know how to help him. And when we help you, we expect full transparency. No compartmentalization bullshit. We need to be kept completely in the loop or there’s no deal.” When she finished, she looked over at Wanda and then up at Bucky to confirm that she’d covered everything. Wanda continued to stare at the floor like she was a kid who’d been pulled into the headmaster’s office, but Bucky shot her a quick smile. Satisfied, she turned back to the Director.

“No deal.”

The air rushed out of her. “What?”

Coulson folded his hands together and sighed. “Miss Lewis, you are neither enhanced, inhuman, nor a trained SHIELD Agent. As clearly evidenced by your stunt today and your track record, you clearly have an interesting, if incomplete skill set. But I don’t have a job for you.” Darcy’s chest tightened and she felt herself lose control of her facial features. He held a hand up to stop her imminent interjection and smoothly continued with his assessment. “We’re dealing with a staggering amount of unknown variables here. I can’t send you in to the field in good conscience. As for the data-retrieval side of things, you certainly have an aptitude for intelligence gathering. However, as demonstrated by your actions time and time again, you also have a stunning disregard for protocol. Both training and protocol would keep you alive, should your life or the lives of others be in danger. I will not be responsible for putting you in a position where you would be a liability Miss Lewis.” That summation hit her in the gut, hard. She felt the little voice stir in the back of her mind, as Coulson switched his attention away from her. “As for Sergeant Barnes and Miss Maximoff, that’s another story.”

Bucky’s posture tightened further in her peripheral vision. “Sir?”

Coulson furrowed his brow. “Sergeant Barnes, you are about as trained as they come, and a national hero.” He ducked his head to try to catch Wanda’s eye. “And you, Miss Maximoff?” He paused while she lifted her head to look at him. “Well, you’re an Avenger, it kinda goes without saying.”

Darcy’s thoughts skittered away from her. All of her plans hinged on them working within SHIELD. They needed the resources and access. At no point had she considered that the door would be closed on them. Well, on her.

She was brought back to the moment when Bucky’s hand came to rest on the arm that still lay across the back of her chair. He cleared his throat and held his head high. “With all due respect Sir, I don’t think you give Darcy enough credit. She was instrumental to the dissolution of the Sokovia Accords. Not to mention saving us all from The Raft. You need her on your team.”

Darcy’s heart warmed as Bucky spoke the words she couldn’t spit out. But Coulson didn’t miss a beat. “We don’t have the time to get her trained. Would you have me send her into a fire fight without a flak jacket? Because that’s what you’re asking me to do.”

Bucky squeezed her forearm gently. “Just try and stop her, Sir. Plus,” Bucky lifted his hand and tugged gently on the strap on her shoulder that allowed her to adjust the armour plating in her tactical jacket. “My girl already brought her own.” Darcy looked up at him gratefully, and felt her chest loosen.

Coulson changed tact. “Miss Maximoff?”

Wanda kept her head down and she fidgeted with the multitude of rings on her fingers. After a moment, she spoke quietly and barely moved her lips. “Please, I am not an Avenger. My um… abilities… I don’t have control of them and-“

Coulson interjected and came around his desk to stand in front of her. He spoke calmly but with more surety. “We could help you with that. The deal that Agent Barton made for you is still in effect. You’re welcome to any help you need here. I know you didn’t take us up on it last time, but the offer still stands. You have an amazing gift, and I’m more than willing to help you understand and control it, if that’s what you want. We have people here who are experts in assisting people who have powers that they don’t understand. They know, because they’ve been through it themselves. Trust us.”

Darcy watched as Wanda sat a little straighter and chanced another glance up at Coulson. The older man smiled gently and tucked his hands into his suit pants pockets. Darcy noticed for the first time since she’d entered the room that Coulson was wearing a tie. She’d misread the entire situation.

Bucky placed his other hand on Wanda’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “We’ll take it under advisement, Sir. But if you don’t mind, we’d like to see Captain Rogers while we’re here.”

Darcy pulled her iPod out of her pocket and started typing in search terms with trembling fingers. The nano-drive kicked in while Coulson returned to behind his desk and picked up his tablet. He muttered to himself, “I don’t know why I bothered explaining to him what covert means…” He scrolled down on the screen until he found what he wanted. “Captain Rogers should be about done in his meeting with the legal team from Stark Industries.” Darcy’s interest piqued at the mention of Stark but she kept her attention on the device in front of her. “He’s in the main conference room. I’ll have an agent show you the way. I’d take you myself but…” He turned the tablet to show the continuous pop-up email notifications in the corner.

Bucky nodded brusquely, “Not a problem Sir, we’ll find our own way.”

Darcy pushed herself up from the chair in one fluid movement and waggled her iPod in the air. “Don’t sweat it Coulson, I got the base layout right here.” She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. He simply shook his head and returned to his work.

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy strode ahead, the sound of her boots echoing around the slightly curved brick walls. Bucky and Wanda walked at her back, as she led them through the labyrinth of underground tunnels that made up the old SSR base. She glanced down at the map and took the turning to the left. She looked back up just in time before she collided into Bobbi.

“Darcy?” Bobbi stood in full SHIELD gear with her batons and gun holstered at her sides. She held a bundle of files to her chest, but looked like she was seconds away from being dropped into a battlefield.

“Hey Birdie, how are you doing? Are you okay?” Darcy looked over her friend’s face. Her normally round sparkling eyes were narrowed and sharp. Her hair was pulled into a too-tight ponytail that sat high on the back of her head.

Bobbi looked back at Bucky and Wanda, who had come to a stop behind them, before turning back to Darcy. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Uh, sure.” Darcy stole a look back at Bucky, who looked a little concerned, “You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” She tossed her iPod to Bucky and smiled softly at him as he brushed his hand along her lower back as he passed her. She then tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Everything okay?”

Bobbi shook her head and cleared her throat. Her voice was clipped and to the point. “I heard you broke in again. What are you doing here?”

Darcy spoke slowly. She wasn’t sure what this conversation was about and she’d already been sent reeling, not five minutes earlier. “Came to talk to Coulson, for all the good it did…” She folded her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to her back foot. “We came to offer help. But apparently I’m no use to the Director.”

Bobbi shuffled the papers in her hand. “What did he say?”

“I’m not trained, would be a liability in the field, don’t follow rules, blah, blah.” She kept her voice light and only sounded irritated, instead of shaken to the core like she really was.

Bobbi shrugged, “He’s got a point.”

“Birdie?” Darcy felt the rug get pulled out from under her again, and she’d only just started to regain balance.

Bobbi raised an eyebrow, and used every inch that she had on Darcy to look down on her. “You aren’t a trained agent Darce. He can’t send you into the field. It would be reckless.”

Darcy’s hands involuntarily went to her hips, her voice caught as indignation rose up into her throat, “You, of all people, should know that I’m capable enough in the field. And off of it for that matter.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t capable. Circumstances were different though. You’re asking the Director to take responsibility for you-“

She threw her hands up into the air, quickly losing control of the conversation. Bobbi pressed her lips together as she was interrupted. “I never asked him to do that! I offered help. Plus, it wasn’t that long ago that the ‘Director’ was considering me for recruitment.”

Bobbi leant against the brick wall with one hip, her batons clicking together as she did so. Her facial features softened, “And do you remember what I said about that?”

Darcy failed to see the relevance. “You told him to go fuck himself.”

“And?” Bobbi looked at her like she was missing some obvious point.

Darcy shook her head and furrowed her brow. “That I was too normal for SHIELD life.”

Bobbi tilted her head and rested her temple against the wall. Every line of her body had eased itself. “Exactly. You’re too normal. You aren’t an agent.”

Darcy silently fumed. She knew fine well that Bobbi was repurposing their conversation to prove her own point. Super spies, man. But what she didn’t know, was whether her friend really believed it.

Darcy tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and erased every emotion from her face, replacing it with benign interest. “I take it, you’ve been reinstated?”

“Yeah. Coulson pushed through the paperwork. We need all of our agents on active duty.” Bobbi smiled tightly. Her voice didn’t sound right, like she was reading from a script.

Darcy dropped all pretence and leant in towards Bobbi, “Are you doing okay? It can’t be easy, not just Hunter, but everyone else too.”

“No. But we’ll get them back.” Bobbi sniffed and stood up straight.

Darcy’s own back stiffened. She sounded like Clint. “Have you spoken to Barton?”

Bobbi shrugged with one shoulder and cast an eye around the hall before answering. “He’s not answered any of my calls.” A flicker of concern appeared and then was gone from her face. “I see Wanda is with you, you’ve spoken to him?”

“He wasn’t answering our calls either, so we paid him a visit. He’s not good Birdie. He’s hurting, bad.” Darcy rocked back on her heels and chewed the inside of her cheek. “Actually, it was a bit of a disaster. He threw us all out.” If anyone was going to understand about dealing with Clint when he was being difficult, it was going to be his ex-wife.

“You just left?”

Darcy’s hackles rose and she protested, “He didn’t leave much room for negotiation.” She pulled a hand out of her back pocket and rubbed her bruised tailbone absently. “That’s why we came here. To ask Coulson for help with him in exchange for our co-operation. Only, Coulson only wants Bucky and Wanda, not me.”

“Maybe that’s for the best? Let us handle things, and keep yourself safe. The world is getting more and more dangerous by the day. I know I’d sleep better knowing you were out of harm’s way.” Bobbi’s free hand came out to cup her upper arm in a concerned fashion.

Darcy looked down at the hand and noted the healing cuts across the knuckles and the slight swelling. She looked up and caught Bobbi watching where she was looking. “So I’m just supposed to sit by while all of this happens? And not know what’s going on with my people?”

“It’s a better option than you being out in the field, not knowing what you’re doing and getting yourself or another agent injured or killed. You don’t want that do you?” Bobbi maintained the aura of ‘Concerned Friend’ but Darcy knew when she was being played. It stung that her deepest insecurities and fears were being prodded at though.

Darcy pointed down the corridor and dislodged Bobbi’s hand in one movement. “I better go catch up with the others.”

Bobbi withdrew her hand and hugged the files to her chest with both arms. She tilted her head and smiled warmly. “I only want what’s best, Darce.”

Darcy nodded and set out down the corridor. Her boots thudded a little too loud and she could feel Bobbi’s eyes on her back. Before she turned down another hall, she waved and called out, “See you around, Agent 19.”


	5. Cable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as per, so any and all mistakes are mine. Just let me know if you find any and I'll fix it.
> 
> **Thank you to everyone who's reading, kudosing, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing, etc, etc. Thanks for sticking with me on this ride.**

She silently stalked through the hallway, towards the kitchen. Natasha cast an eye into the empty living room. The room had lain untouched for several weeks judging by the layer of dust on the decorations. She gracefully side-stepped the creaky floorboard and through the archway. Her eyes stayed on a swivel as she took in the kitchen. The acidic smell of a number of cleaning products scratched at the back of her throat. She eyed the single mug in the sink and moved on. After assessing the room, she continued out on to the back porch.

Clint stood in sweatpants and his old army jacket. She took him in from his dishevelled, but clean, hair down to his scruffy boots. He stood by the porch railings, a packet of cigarettes and Laura’s not-so-secret ashtray rested atop them. As she drew closer, she saw that he was fiddling with an unlit cigarette. His unfocussed gaze watched the item as he rolled it between his fingers.

Natasha sighed and pulled out her back-up revolver and a lighter from inside her leather jacket. She palmed them both into one hand and strode right up to her former partner. Now that she was a few inches from him, he turned his attention to her. His furrowed brow lessened and then gathered again as she approached and put the gun and lighter in his hand.

She nodded curtly to him and then descended the few stairs, down into the dirt that was once the back yard. She walked a couple of feet before turning back to him. She used one hand to shield her eyes from the late morning sun and used the other to pull out her Sig Sauer. “Are you coming?” Clint gawped between her and the offending items in his hand. Natasha tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow minutely. She clarified, “You look like you need to blow holes in something.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed towards the back of the barn, her boots crunching slightly in the frost hardened dirt. After a few seconds, she heard Clint pick up the cigarettes and ashtray and follow her.

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha took a deep pull from her cigarette and then stubbed it out in the ashtray on the workbench. They stood in the back of the barn, at the shooting range Clint had set up. On the gable-end he’d draped an anti-splash curtain and set up targets on hay bales. The sun shone in narrow shafts from the bullet holes in the ceiling. Dust particles shimmered in clouds through them. She removed the empty magazine from her pistol and replaced it while Clint did the same. He’d since lost the jacket and draped it over a nearby stool. He’d lost some muscle tone in his arms, and torso, from what she could see underneath his t-shirt. It was looser, and less purple than the ones he normally favored. His own cigarette hung from his lips while he switched out his magazine and didn’t notice when the ash dropped off of its own accord and tumbled down his sweatpants.

She nodded to the target on the far left. “Thought you were the _World’s Greatest Marksman_?”

Clint shot her a disbelieving glance from the side of his eye before checking his gun over and rearranging the other spare magazines on the bench in front of him. “Those shots are all on target.”

She raised her gun and aimed for the target. She sighted his shots and then dropped the gun back down to her side. “The second and fifth shots are 4mm wide to the right. If you were aiming for the carotid, you’d have missed. You’re off your game.”

Clint spluttered, “Bullshit”, before aggressively putting out his cigarette.

She shrugged and offered him a condescending smile. “It’s alright old man. If you aren’t as good as you used to be, own it. I’m sure they have shuffleboard at the retirement centre in town.” She lit a cigarette and tossed it to Clint before lighting her own.

He caught it easily and scowled at her while he took a drag. “Fuck off Tasha. I don’t miss.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke and squinted down the range to the target in question, before muttering under his breath, “by much…” He rolled his shoulders and stuck out his bottom lip a fraction, “Still a better shot than you.”

She almost rolled her eyes at how easy it was. “Sounds like you want to prove a point Hawk.”

Clint’s eyes sparked at the challenge and the lines at the corners lifted. “Usual rules?”

She bowed gracefully, “After you.”

Clint barked out a sharp laugh which put him a fraction of a second behind her. They both fired through their first magazine in quick succession, jettisoned them and replaced them before continuing to fire on all of the targets. The mixture of carbonite and cigarette smoke clouded around them, the beams of light more stark by contrast. On the third magazine, Clint started pulling ahead and while his gaze was focussed, the corner of his mouth was lifted in a contended half-smile. He benefited from the increase in focus and gained a lead.

She counted down the last two shots in both of their penultimate magazines. She uncliped her magazine, reloaded and heard Clint’s empty clip thud on to the bench. He’d have her beaten in his next two shots. So she pulled out one of her modified Widow’s Bites and deftly pitched it at the target. On contact it exploded.

Clint ducked down at the blast before turning on her. “Aw, Tasha, no! That’s cheating.” He valiantly tried to keep a straight face but within seconds he errupted in laughter and the deep, rough chortle set her off too.

Behind her, she heard a sudden movement. She pulled out the gun she keeps strapped to her ankle and spun to aim squarely at the source of the sound. A fraction of a second before she squeezed the trigger, a very skittish, young goat poked its head out behind a storage crate.

Clint shot his hand out to stop her. “Nat, Nat! It’s just Tony.” She kept her gun on the tiny goat while she turned and silently willed him to explain what he was on about. “Tony the goat. They were a Christmas gift from Thor. He got out his pen and I just let him wander around I forgot to check if he was in here.”

“ _They_ were a gift?”

Clint ground the toe of a boot into the floor as he looked everywhere but at her or the goat that she still had her gun on. “There were two of them. But then…”

Natasha blinked at the startled animal before holstering her gun. “Is there anything to drink in the house?”

Clint avidly inspected the ground by his foot, “Yeah, why?”

She swiftly grabbed and put away the rest of her weapons. “We need to drink.”

Clint, entirely unconvincingly, shook his head, “I probably shouldn’t.”

“So?” She rolled her eyes in exasperation, “Do you _want_ to drink?”

Clint looked at her as though she’d asked him if he had wanted to continue breathing, and so she led the way back to the house, leaving the traumatized goat behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

A crate of beer, two thirds of a bottle of whiskey and a skipped dinner later, and Clint blinked several times, trying to focus his vision on the oiled rag before he handed it to her. They both sat in comfortable, booze-soaked silence on top of the kitchen counter. Clint’s legs were crossed, an open bottle of whiskey tucked in between them. Her legs draped down, ankles crossed and rested on the cabinet door below her, while she cleaned her guns. Her already cleaned Sig Sauer lay on the counter in between them.

She finished cleaning it down and slid the different parts back into place, each with a satisfying click. Clint took a drag from the bottle and offered it to her as the front door opened. Clint grabbed the Sig and semi-gracefully landed on his feet, the gun trained on the door, bottle still in hand. Nat stilled and aimed her own gun at the door, while she checked through the window to the shadows between the sparse trees in the back yard.

After a couple of seconds, Bobbi strode in to the kitchen, in full SHIELD uniform. Her eyes flitted between the two guns pointed at her, and the mostly empty bottle of whiskey. Clint was the first to drop his weapon. He slumped to the floor and leant his back against the cabinet. He bent one leg and rested the gun lazily on his knee, before taking another, far larger pull of whiskey.

Bobbi looked down at him disapprovingly, “Booze and firearms? Somethings never change.” Getting nothing repentant in return, she tried Natasha. “Could you not do anything to stop this this?”

Clint petulantly defended himself and gestured, ineffectively, up in her general direction with the bottle. “S’her idea.”

Natasha merely shrugged and clicked the safety back on to her gun, although she kept it held loosely in her hand. She reached a hand down and Clint dutifully handed her the bottle, waited for her to take a drink, and then return it to him.

Bobbi folded her arms and widened her stance. “You should come with me back to SHIELD. Both of you. Regulation 283.1, should a crisis occur, all available agents will report for duty.”

“Why?” Natasha started to tidy away the gun-cleaning gear and infuriated Bobbi further by not giving her, her full attention.

Predictably, Bobbi’s tether shortened, “Because the world is going to shit? That not reason enough for you?”

Nat shrugged as she tied the leather ties on her kit. “It happens every now and again. Why would that require our presence specifically?”

“Because they took our people Romanoff.” Her name rolled out of Bobbi’s mouth on a hiss.

Nat raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Who did?”

Bobbi threw her a dirty look before crouching down to Clint’s level. She prised the bottle out of his fingers and held it aloft out of reach. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. “You look like shit Barton.”

Clint groaned and scrubbed his, now empty, hand over his face. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Natasha leant down elegantly and plucked the whiskey bottle from Bobbi’s hand, ignoring the indignant scowl that snapped on to the blonde’s face. “I didn’t say that.”

“You said I looked like I needed to blow holes in something. Close enough.” Clint sniffed resentfully, and so Natasha handed the bottle back down to him. He rewarded her with a sloppy smile.

Bobbi tried again, catching Clint’s eye and lowered her voice, “They took them. I know you’re feeling it, just like I am. You aren’t going to find them sitting on your kitchen floor drinking liquor from the bottle are you?”

Clint paused, the bottle an inch from his lips and held there. “Do you really think we’ll find them?”

Bobbi shrugged one shoulder before narrowing her eyes, “I’d like to see someone try to stop us.”

“We’ve got no idea what we’re up against Bob.” In defeat, he dropped the arm holding the bottle and the glass clanged off the tiled floor.

Bobbi tutted, “You’ve fought the Chitauri and an army of psychotic robots on a flying city, and won… with a bow and arrow.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Clint leant back and thudded his head off the counter before sighing, his voice rough from the whiskey, “I was part of the Avengers then.”

“And?”

Clint looked at his ex-wife incredulously, “And the Avengers don’t exist anymore.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Bobbi’s tone of voice turned accusatory.

Clint growled, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Someone takes your family from you, right out of your damn home and you’re refusing to fight because there’s no Avengers right now? Really? You’re just going to what? Stay retired?” With each question, Bobbi’s head titled from side to side, her tight pony-tail flicked viciously.

“You know I’d fight and take on anyone and anything to get my family back. Don’t you fucking dare say otherwise.” Clint’s ire rose quickly and abated quicker still as the enormity of the situation settled back into place. “But it ain’t as easy as that. Where would we even start?”

“At the beginning, at SHIELD. We re-group and start from the ground up.” She tugged on the SHIELD patch on her shoulder to emphasise her point. “But we can’t do that from your kitchen floor.”

Hope rose from the archer. “You think we can do it from SHIELD? We aren’t even SHIELD agents anymore. I’m a Part-Time Consultant…”

Bobbi interrupted, “Bullshit. The pair of you are lifers, just like me.” She pointedly stared up at Natasha, who’d stayed silent so far. “Aren’t you Romanoff?”

She remained silent and Clint dipped his chin to his chest. Bobbi inched closer to him, “It’s terrifying and it hurts Barton. It feels like part of your heart has been ripped out and there’s just a gaping hole where they used to be. I can’t begin to imagine how this feels for you, and I won’t insult you by trying to pretend like I do. But this?” Bobbi motioned around them. “It won’t bring them back.”

Clint’s words tumbled from his tongue, “What if we can’t find them?”

“What if we don’t try?”

He ground his jaw and cleared his throat, “What if we can’t bring them back because they’re… if they’ve…”

“Well, shit, Hawkeye. Then we _avenge_ them.” Bobbi stood easily and held a hand down to help Clint up. He scratched the beard that had grown along his jawline and looked up at Natasha for her input. Natasha froze every feature, refusing to indicate her preference. He then looked up at Bobbi who was smiling gently. He put the bottle on the floor and used that hand to take hers, and awkwardly scrabble to his feet. He listed the side at the change of position and Bobbi’s grin unfurled, cat-like and a little too severe.

Natasha watched the ex-spouses as they turned to her for her response. She looked meaningfully at Clint, “Go to bed, sleep this off and then decide in the morning.”

Clint handed her the Sig back, “What do you think Tasha?”

She tucked the gun into her jacket and slid agilely to the floor. “I’ll go reset the security system, and then we can all get some sleep.” She strode out of the room before anyone could prod further. As she made her way into the living room, to the security control panel, she listened as Bobbi helped Clint up the stairs. Thuds rang out in between drunk stage-whispers and complaints.

“God, somethings never change Barton. You’re still a lightweight.”

“I’m fine.”

“For someone who was in the circus, your sense of balance is terrible.”

“Says who?“

“Barton! Get fucking down from there.”

The voices trailed away as Natasha found the control box in the hidden panel beside the fireplace. It confirmed her suspicions that one of the sensors out-front was misaligned. She turned to leave the room to fix it, and as she passed the still-standing, but very much dead, Christmas tree. She reached out and touched a roughly made black and red salt-dough ornament. She paused to run her finger over the small bumps and ridges, little flecks of paint coming away.

A clatter rang out from upstairs. She sighed, unhooked the ornament, placed it carefully in her pocket and headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't forget to feed the author :)  
> And put all questions, comments, queries and/or theories in the comments.  
> I'll reply as soon as I can.  
> Thanks for reading <3


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